


The World is Not Enough

by gingerink



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Angst, Blood, I should warn you, Jenson is a spy, Kevin Dies, M/M, Romance, Slow Burn, spy AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-04-17 05:12:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4653654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingerink/pseuds/gingerink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jenson is the best agent on the field, until a routine operation goes wrong and is left with a new partner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Compromise

**Author's Note:**

> Death in this chapter, and a bit of blood. I've been wanting to write a Jenson/Nando fic for some time, so enjoy! :)

Jenson palms the gun in his hand, running his fingers over the safety catch. The metal is cool against the tips of his fingers, but his hand is steady as he gently picks his way through the warehouse. It’s a standard operation, his shoes barely make a sound against the concrete. His thoughts are spinning, he keeps his eyes trained on the light before him. He licks his lips, as he gently pulls the safety off his semi-automatic, wincing at the slight click that drifts through the air. Kevin is behind him, his gun pointing behind Jenson into the darkness.   
  
They move as a unit, their shoes barely making any noise, their breaths are synchronised, as one. Jenson holds up a finger and Kevin immediately stops, his gun shifting slightly, his finger wrapped around the trigger. They stop for a moment, the only thing they hear is their own shallow breaths. Jenson moves forward, his fingers on the wooden door before them.

“Expecting us, Mr Ecclestone?” Jenson says smoothly as he throws the door open.   
  
Kevin is at his back immediately, his gun trained behind them. Jenson’s finger wavers on the trigger ever so slightly, but he recorrects, the barrel of his gun pointing down at Ecclestone’s face. Ecclestone laughs, it echoes around the room.

“Unfortunately for you, Mr Button, it appears you have a rat in your midst. I was prepared for your arrival.” Ecclestone says, smoothly.   
  
Jenson’s gun remains pointed on him, it doesn’t waver at all. Ecclestone clicks his fingers, the door closes behind them, two henchman, their dark eyes trained on the two men before them. Jenson feels Kevin tense up next to him ever so slightly. He keeps his gun trained on Ecclestone, his breathing steady. He hopes that Kevin will remain calm.

“What do you mean, Ecclestone?” Jenson replies, glancing around the room at the exits, how many steps it is to the door.

“It appears that you didn’t tie up every loose end like you should have,” Ecclestone says, “It seems you should really keep an eye on your younger agents.”

Jenson’s eyes narrow. “I don’t understand what you mean-“

Ecclestone smiles, it’s languid. “Come forward, dear, let me see you.” A figure appears from the shadows. Jenson takes in the sharp features, the dark hair of the young man stood behind him.

“Hello, Stoffel.” He says evenly.   
  
He knew the whole time, of course he did, there is no only reason he hung close to him and Kevin, at their shoulder, smiling at him. He doesn’t have the smile on his face at the moment, he’s dressed in a blue suit, his expression is grave. He can feel Kevin gasp at the side of him, his fingers slip off the trigger.

“Kevin,” He says, sharply. His gun is still trained on Ecclestone. Kevin takes a deep breath beside him.

“You don’t sound surprised Mr Button.” Ecclestone says, his smile still languid.

“I’m not. I knew why he was getting closer to Kevin, I saw him trying to get information-“

“That’s not right at all.” Stoffel moved around, his arms folded as his eyes fix on Kevin. “I loved you, but you never seemed to notice me with him around-“ His eyes flickered to Jenson. “But it doesn’t matter, he won’t be around for very much longer.” Stoffel says , pulling a gun out of his pocket. His fingers twist around the catch, he smirks as the gun lands on Jenson. “I will enjoy killing you, Jenson, you’ve got in the way a little too much for my liking.”

His gun is trained on Jenson who remains still, he is still twisted towards Ecclestone, his gun hasn’t moved. Kevin panics at the side of him, his eyes widen, his gun slips ever so slightly.

“Kevin, stop panicking. If he’s going to kill me, he’s going to kill me.” Jenson says softly.

“Jenson, stop saying that, you said it was a routine operation-“

“Kevin, just relax-“ Jenson says carefully.

Stoffel’s fingers curl around the trigger, he pulls down on it. Jenson closes his eyes, waits for the bullet to hit him. But it doesn’t, it doesn’t hit him. He feels something barrel into him, he opens his eyes to see Kevin throw himself forward, into the path of the bullet. Stoffel’s eyes widen as the bullet hits Kevin in the chest. Jenson feels Kevin collapse against him, his body falling on top of Jenson’s as he hits the floor. The pain in his hipbone and back don’t register, as he glances down at Kevin. A red mark is spreading over his white shirt, he gasps out in pain. Stoffel drops the gun, it hits the floor and clatters against the wooden floorboards.

“Kevin-“ Jenson whispers, forgetting Ecclestone, Stoffel and the two henchmen in the room as he rips open Kevin’s shirt, he tears off his suit jacket and applies pressure to the wound.

“I’m sorry-“ Stoffel whispers, his eyes wide.

Jenson doesn’t respond, his eyes are trained on Kevin, his pistol lying forgotten on the floor – it’s not procedure, but this is Kevin – Jenson presses his jacket against the wound, he tries to ignore the blood, Kevin’s blood spreading over his fingers. He swallows down the panic, as the blood trickles down his fingers, staining the floorboards.

“Jenson-“ Kevin says, weakly, his eyes are blue, bluer than usual, there’s flecks of blood on his lips, in his hair. “Just stop it-“

“No, never,” Jenson says, his mask slipping. “You can’t leave me-“ He whispers, his fingers brush over Kevin’s face. Kevin smiles at him, he coughs slightly, blood splatter his lips once more.

“Jenson, I’m sorry-“

“For what?” Jenson asks, pressing harder against Kevin’s wounds. Kevin shakes his head, the blood flecks his lips, his eyes seem to become glassier, more hurt. He grasps Jenson’s hand weakly in his own, Jenson tightens his fingers around Kevin’s. Kevin looks at him.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry it has to end like this.” Kevin whispers. Jenson feels the tears fall down his cheeks.

“Kevin, stop talking like that-“

“Jense, why prolong the inevitable?” Kevin whispers, his eyes flood with pain. “Just let me go.”

“I can’t-“ Jenson sobs, pressing his lips against Kevin’s knuckles, the taste of blood floods his mouth, his lips barely brush against his partner’s hand.

“Jense,-“ Kevin sounds weak now, the blood is soaking into the knees of Jenson’s trousers. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Kevin.” Jenson says softly, tears falling down his cheeks.   
  
He feels Kevin’s hand loosen around his own, his partner’s eyes close for the last time, he draws his last breath. Jenson presses a kiss against Kevin’s hand, he presses one against his fallen lover’s lips, they’re cold and unresponsive. He screams out in pain, like a jagged knife is been thrust in his chest, as he cradles Kevin’s lifeless body to him. Kevin doesn’t respond, he hangs in Jenson’s hold, blood coating his body.

Jenson feels the safety click off and stiffens, he bites his lip, glancing at Ecclestone.

“What are you waiting for?” Jenson spits, his hands are still covered in Kevin’s blood.

Ecclestone laughs. “You are interesting, Mr Button, but I have no desire to kill you, not today anyway, not when you seem to want to join your partner in death. That was very touching.”

He clicks his fingers. The two henchman grab hold of Stoffel and lead him away. The young man is shaking, tears still falling down his face. Jenson keep his eyes trained on Ecclestone.

“I hope we will meet again, Mr Button.” Ecclestone says, pulling himself out of his chair and dusting down his suit jacket. “I am sure we will.” He walks past Jenson, and the stricken body of Kevin. Jenson still holds Kevin in his arms.

“I’ll kill you, Ecclestone. I will kill you.” He screams out into the air, pain, hurt, frustration. Kevin doesn’t wake up, he’s cold, he’s dead. It was only supposed to be a routine operation.

 

* * *

 

The rain is pouring down. Jenson is dressed in black, sunglasses pressed on his face, hiding the bruises under his eyes, from sleepless nights, from waking up screaming, feeling around for Kevin in the bed but finding only cold sheets. He stands next to Mika, clad similarly in black, as they lower the coffin into the ground. He holds back the tears, he tries not to think about Kevin lying on the ground, blood spreading out underneath him, he can feel the rain sink into his hair, flattening it completely. He feels Mika press a comforting hand to his wrist as the first handful of dirt is thrown onto the coffin. Jenson feels his fingers release the rose as he steps up to the grave. It doesn’t seem real, it doesn’t look real, _Kevin Magnussen_ written out on the gravestone before him.

“Goodbye, Kevin. I love you.” Jenson whispers, as the rose hits the wood of the coffin.   
  
He watches as handfuls of dirt and flowers sink on top of Kevin, guiding him on his last journey. It’s only when the people filter away, when only Mika and Jenson are left that a sob presses past his lips. He falls to his knees in front of the grave. Mika says nothing, there’s nothing he can say. He just grasps Jenson’s shoulder gently as the younger man collapses in front of the grave, hot, wet gasps tearing from his throat.

“I love you.” He whispers, “Why did you leave me?” He presses his forehead against the cool marble of the gravestone, his hands grasping the dirt. “Why?” He whispers. There’s no response, the rain continues to fall.

 

* * *

 

Mika calls him into his office two months later. Jenson stands before his boss, shuffling from foot to foot. He fiddles with his cufflinks, presses a hand over his unshaven jaw.

“Well, you look like shit.” Mika remarks.

Jenson glances up at Mika, his eyes are almost steely grey. He’s lost weight in the last two months, he’s not been looking after himself. His hair is unwashed and unkempt, his suit is wrinkled, there’s a few days old stubble spreading across his face but his eyes haunt Mika; they look haunted, surrounded by bruises, no doubt from the nightmares that plague Jenson every night. Mika read through the file again and again, he was satisfied that there was nothing Jenson could have done, but the blonde is still haunted by the loss of Kevin. Mika knows such loss himself; he understands what it feels like to grasp out into empty, cold sheets, for screams to tear you out of sleep, to shake constantly, to never feel like you can forgive yourself.

“You said you were ready to come back. I have an assignment for you.” Mika begins.

Jenson doesn’t respond, his eyes still are locked on Mika though.

“The only catch is that I need you to take a partner-“

“No, never again.” Jenson cuts Mika off immediately, his eyes darken.

“Jenson, you’re been unreasonable, think about what Kevin would have wanted-“

Jenson moves forward, slamming his fist on Mika’s desk. “Don’t you dare mention his name, or what he would have wanted-“

“You’re in bits, Jenson. My best guy out on the scene, I’ve given you two months away from work because I knew you were emotionally compromised and believe me, I know it takes an awful long time not to blame yourself-“

“He was aiming at me, Mika! If I had been faster, Kevin would still be here today.”

“I read the file through several times Jenson, as you are aware with the death of a talented agent… I know you want to be back on the field, though I question if you are ready for this. Therefore, you will have a new partner.”

“I don’t want a new partner.” Jenson says through gritted teeth.

“Jenson, you need a new partner. Nobody will ever replace Kevin, but you need somebody to hold your back in the field.”

“Somebody to die for me again, you mean.” Jenson hisses.

Mika glances down at the papers before him, beckoning for Jenson to sit down. “I selected Fernando Alonso to be your new partner; been with us for approximately twelve years, very experienced, usually works in Barcelona but he agreed to come here to partner you. He’s a good guy, fair, firm, even temper to match out your fiery one. Excellent at extraction and interrogation.” Mika shuffles the papers. “Bilingual, speaks four languages fluently, top scores in the shooting range. He’s a good guy, Jenson.”

“I’m sure he is but I work alone now.” Jenson hisses through his teeth.

“That’s a shame, I was looking forward to working with the great Jenson Button.” A voice sounds out behind them, one that sounds almost Spanish.  
  
Jenson turns his head to see the man who is in the photograph at the top of Mika’s file standing before him, arms folded, smirk on his face. He looks even better in person; his hair is dark and fluffy, he’s grown a beard since the last photo was taken. Jenson feels his mouth fall open.

“Hola, Fernando Alonso. Nice to meet you..” Fernando smiles, it’s a wide and satisfied smile.  
  
Jenson hates him already.

“Jenson, but no need to get too close. I work alone, you’ll be going to Barcelona soon.”

“I doubt that, I like a challenge.” Fernando fires back.

Mika looks between the two agents, a small smile creeps up on his face. This could be rather interesting.


	2. Dance into the Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jenson adjusts to life without Kevin and to his new partner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really really wanted to write some more of this, especially since when I wrote it, people didn't seem to like Fernando/Jenson. It's been a bit of a challenge but I wanted to push myself to revisit this fic.

They’re in Italy. It’s a beautiful and balmy evening - the air is thick with humidity and sweat pulls at Jenson’s shirt collar as he surveys the crowd. He wasn’t expecting to be back into the field so soon, but he couldn’t be anywhere else. He’d tried for so long, to get away from it, but the nightmares kept coming. He remembers waking from his dreams, covered in sweat, unable to stop the screams from brushing past his lips but he’ll never admit that it was Kevin’s name that parts his lips in a scream. But he had to come back - he had to throw himself back into his way of life, he doesn’t know how to do anything else. His job, although dangerous, is all he has. It’s all he knows - like old shoes that always feel comfortable when he slips into them - and the ink on Kevin’s death certificate isn’t even dry yet, and yet here Jenson is, in his favourite suit. He smiles at the woman in the ruby red silky cocktail dress, her scarlet lips curving into a smile of her own. He’s not interested at all - it’s one of the unfortunate things about Kevin’s death - he hasn’t been able to fuck as readily as he usually does. He’s tried - but all his conquests seem to melt away into blonde hair and ice blue eyes, lips parting around one word, why, and Jenson finds himself slumped against the pillows with tears in his eyes. He pretends to listen to the woman in the scarlet dress’s conversation, laughs along when she pauses but his attention is elsewhere.    
  
He tries to focus, tries to blend in and not to think about Kevin, about the icy blue eyes fixed on him - only for his eyes to fix on someone across the room. Fernando seems to emerge from the crowd, his long dark hair brushed back from his face, his navy suit seems to fit him like a glove. The tailored cut clings to his lean, muscular form and Jenson finds that he can’t tear his eyes away from the Spaniard. He reluctantly allowed Fernando to accompany him - well, Mika insisted on it, he said that Jenson couldn’t work alone, that it was too dangerous. Jenson completely ignored Mika’s instructions as he has so often before. He tries not to watch Fernando too carefully, but his eyes are drawn to the younger man. He seems to fit in effortlessly, sliding between both men and women and leading unsuspecting marks into silky smooth conversation. He tries to push away the thoughts he has of Kevin, when Kevin used to do it with such ease.    
  
Jenson feels his eyes narrow as a tall man moves in closer to Fernando, smiling at the shorter Spaniard. The man is stunning - all sculptured cheekbones, dark hair slicked back, stubble decorating his jaw. Usually, Jenson wouldn’t bat an eyelid, but he knows the man who is in Fernando’s personal space. Mark Webber is a dangerous man - arguably one of the most dangerous men in the world - and he’s grinning like the cat that got the cream. The Australian is leaning into Fernando’s space and the Spaniard is lapping up every minute of attention that he’s given. Jenson’s eyes narrow as he watches the pair, his hand slowly tightening on his champagne glass.    
  
“Excuse me,” He says sweetly to the woman who is still chattering away about her trip to Paris. He smiles widely before downing the rest of the champagne in his glass, and disposing of it on the tray of a passing waiter. He slowly makes his way over to where Fernando and Mark are - the shorter Spaniard leaning into the Australian’s space - and Jenson feels something pull on his chest.    
  
“Am I missing anything?” He cuts in and the smile that was gracing Fernando’s face slowly drops away for a moment before the facade pulls itself back up once more. “Honey,” Jenson says as an afterthought, his arm moving to curl around Fernando’s waist. The Spaniard stiffens against his touch as though asking him what on earth he’s doing. But Jenson says nothing, just smiles at the Spaniard and pulls him closer.    
  
“Sorry, Mr Webber, this is my fiance, Jonathan,” Fernando says with a soft smile, melting into the persona that Jenson has carved out for them.   
  
Jenson can tell that Mark can see right through him - they know each other, but Fernando seems blissfully aware of this fact. “Jonathan, this is Mr Webber, he was just telling me some intel on a shipment coming in,”   
  
“Please, call me Mark,” The Australian says, a wide smile on his lips as he holds out his hand for Jenson to take. He accepts the firm handshake that the man gives, smiling through gritted teeth as Mark’s finger swipes over his ringless finger with a raised eyebrow.    
  
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Jenson replies with a wide painted smile on his face.   
  
“Pleasure’s all mine,” Mark says. “How long have you known each other?”  
  
Jenson worries his lip. “Just for a little while,”   
  
“Interesting,” Mark mutters under his breath. “I guess I will be seeing a lot more of you, Jonathan,” He says, squeezing Jenson’s hand a little harder than necessary.    
  


* * *

  
  
“What the fuck are you playing at?” Fernando hisses when they’re out of earshot from Mark. “I had him eating out of my hand before you came in with the concerned boyfriend act,”   
  
“Because-”   
  
“No, it wasn’t even plausible! We didn’t even have wedding rings! He would have opened up to me more if he’d thought I was single-”   
  
“Listen,” Jenson hisses, shoving Fernando up against the wall. “I know you probably think you had that guy under your little finger but I know  _ him _ . I know him better than you think, he’s dangerous. He could kill you with a snap of his fingers,”   
  
“And he was eating out of my hands before you came along. I am capable of doing my job,” Fernando fires back, his eyes dark and flaring with anger. “Like just because you are good at what you do, doesn’t mean anyone else isn’t,”   
  
“He’s dangerous,” Jenson snarls. “He’s the most dangerous man I know,”   
  
“But not the most dangerous man I know,” Fernando deadpans back, trying to push Jenson’s hand away. “Look, you really have to stop with the whole protective thing, I can handle myself-”   
  
“Maybe you can, but you can’t handle Mark,” Jenson says, his eyes fixed on Fernando’s dark ones. “He knows exactly who you are and what to do to get under your skin,”   
  
“I don’t need a bodyguard,” Fernando hisses, eyes still burning. “I need a partner,”    
  
Jenson doesn’t have the words to reply. He tries not to think of Kevin in that moment, at how stubborn Kevin was that particular night. That night where everything changed, where the light in Kevin’s eyes dimmed - he shakes his head, trying to push the thoughts away. Fernando isn’t like that for him, he never will be - he’ll never let anyone get that close again.   
  
“I’m not  _ him _ ,” Fernando says, his voice softer this time.    
  
Jenson grits his teeth. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,”   
  
“I think you do,” Fernando replies, his face only a few inches from Jenson’s. “You loved him, I get it-” He’s cut off by Jenson’s elbow thrusting itself against his windpipe, the blonde’s blue eyes suddenly cold and emotionless.    
  
“Don’t ever presume to know anything about me and him,” He spits, anger rising inside him. “You know nothing,” He snarls, his elbow still pressing against Fernando’s neck. Their faces are still inches apart, the only sound is that of Fernando trying to pull a breath into his lungs. His mind only thinks of Kevin, of the last memories he has of them curled up beneath wrinkled sheets, the way Kevin had smiled at him with the sunlight brushing over his blonde hair.   
  
Fernando splutters, fighting against Jenson’s hold. The blonde man’s lips are only a few inches away from his own, the expression on his face is only one that his enemies have ever seen.    
  
“Don’t ever assume you know anything,” Jenson growls out as he rips his arm back and Fernando stumbles forward slightly, his chest heaving to take in gulps of air.   
  
Jenson however, turns on his heel and leaves Fernando behind. He doesn’t look back as he finds his way back to his hotel room and rips off his cufflinks, the small pieces of metal clattering against the tiles as he wrenches his tie away from his neck. The spectre of Kevin looms large before him, the smile still wide on his face as he gently calls Jenson’s name, his hair still shining in the light. He finds himself curling up in rumpled sheets, sweat pouring from his skin as he reaches out for a body that he knows deep down won’t be there -    
  
“Kevin-” He murmurs out, reaches out for soft skin.    
  
Kevin seems to appear before his eyes, but the warmth and softness is gone. “You let me die, I loved you and you left me to die-”   
  
“No, no, I never would-” Jenson whispers, trying to reach out to Kevin, to touch him, to soothe away the anger and hatred from the blonde’s face. “I tried to protect you-”   
  
“But you failed,” Kevin says, smiling. There’s dark red blood on his teeth. “You failed me, Jense-”   
  
“I never meant to, I wish I’d died instead of you-” Jenson can’t stop the sob bubbling up from his lips. “I am so sorry-” His hands grasp out to touch Kevin but he seems to turn to dust before Jenson’s eyes, the sand seems to slip through his fingers like water. He wakes up at that moment, his eyes wet and the sheets covered in sweat, panting heavily.   
  
“Kevin-” His cracked lips part around the name in a half sob, the sky is still dark and the night is still silent as his eyes ghost over the rumpled sheets, trying to imagine where Kevin once lay. 


End file.
